The young brave had ridden with Chief Gall from the camp of the Sioux and the Cheyenne to meet the long Knives. She remembered his red and white pony chesting the water of the Big Horn River as he went to war. His lance high, bow slipped over his head, his war cries mixed with the others anxious to meet with the enemy. The yellow haired, buckskin-clad leader called Custer came to make war on her people. Into the valley of the Bighorn, the Seventh Cavalry had charged to meet a far superior force. Crazy Horse had swept in from the west; her brave husband with Chief Gall’s forces had cut off their flank. A hot June sun blazed on the hillside where over two hundred “blue pants” had died from arrow, bullets and lance. When the fiery sun set beyond the saw-toothed Bighorns, the woman shared no victory dance because her man had joined his brave ancestors who went before him. The valley of the Bighorn was silent at the next dawn except for the drone of the flies and magpies. A thundershower would soon dampen the blood soaked ground and the grass, nourished by bones of dead bison, would hide all the scars.
What do You think about Waltzing With Tumbleweeds?
